Somewhere worth returning

The yellow, orange, and red hues turn the blanketed mountains a deep green. The day’s last light is mirrored across the endless Pacific Ocean that surrounds Kauai. Over the roar of the engines a bodiless voice commands, “Please fasten your seatbelts for landing.” As the wheels hit the ground, I'm breathing in Hawaiian air.
Two identical rental cars weave around the island. The road is perfectly balanced. Crushed shells to our left and towering emerald walls to our right. Man and machine moving in equilibrium. Pulling up outside an artsy Café, sixteen flip flopping feet emerge. The young local cashier smiles as we walk in. Our various foreign accents and obvious ethnicities giving us away as a muddled group of travellers.
Outside, a single picnic table, complete with umbrella, beckons. The small outdoor area is secluded, enclosed by other shack-like buildings which back onto the property. Pinned to the outside of one of the metal walls is a series of chalkboards. The black canvases are an eager platform waiting for the right ideas. White words are scribbled on some. Messages passed on. Not that I truly took the time to read them.
The coffees, smoothies and cakes arrive. The chatter of eight young women is temporarily paused as breakfast goes down a treat. Free birds from every nest in the world gather here today. This exchange being as much about adventure as about knowledge. Up above, the open skies curve from here to anywhere.
Satisfied, we go to leave. A regimented boat tour of the Na Pali coast awaits. Famous cliffs, steep and angular. The earth harshly cut, like a child taking knife to butter. But nature stops us. Human needs disregarding the notion of time constraints. The door to the bathroom is noticeably tattooed. Inscribed with the names of many who have been and gone. Another Kiwi has visited this very bathroom I note. Alex was it? A name without a face. A distant stranger from home.
Hastily we scrawl our names on the door. Black ink marking our existence in place and time. ‘Hayley- New Zealand- Fall Semester 2014’. Proof of our travels and an unspoken promise of return. Then we leave. We rush. The over eager anticipation for whatever is next, rather than what is now.
Time passes. Too fast. My eyes wander to the dark ocean below just as the stewardess sings, “Tea or coffee?” My tea is almost cold by the time we land, but that is not important, I'm breathing in Hawaiian air again. Eyes open. I’m ready to see what I missed the first time around.